


The Grace of a Captain

by roonilxwazlib



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adorable, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Humor, just the bridge crew being the bridge crew, tbh its just cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7752703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roonilxwazlib/pseuds/roonilxwazlib
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"i wonder if kirk ever misjudged where the chair was an just fell in front of everyone" - spacehomos.tumblr.com<br/>This is Kirk misjudging where the chair is, and falling in front of everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grace of a Captain

**Author's Note:**

> First Star Trek fic! Leave comments-- this is really just meant to be a cute lil thing to make people smile :]  
> this was also posted on my tumblr js

Jim leaned back in his chair and, after allowing himself a moment to breathe, smiled brightly, “Good job, guys,” he said, rising out of his chair, “That was a close call.”

Chekov turned around and grinned at him, a small bead of sweat dripping down his temple, “Thank you, sir.”

Clapping Chekov on the shoulder, Jim stood for a moment, watching the stars whip past the ship as they drove into warp. They moved so rapidly, one was already long behind them before Jim recognized that he even saw it. 

It really was a close call. Lately, everything seems like a bit of a close call. Jim’s tired and he’s stressed and sometimes, being the Captain of a starship wasn’t the job he had imagined it to be in the Academy. There were moments he doubted his ability, and even some moments where he even wanted to resign in the middle of a crisis; disappearing from existence seemed like the best option.

But there was always his team, his crew. And somehow, some way, they always made it through. 

Though in the past weeks, the bridge had become tense– waiting for the next inevitable near death experience (and subsequent escape) and constantly feeling like each day is its own separate mission and attack.

But Jim watched the stars through the glass and remembered why they were all here.

He squeezed Chekov’s shoulder once more, though whether it was for Chekov or for himself, Jim wasn’t sure.

Walking back to his chair, he glanced around at his crew: Uhura’s concerned gaze, Sulu’s focused eyes, Spock’s quirked eyebrow. He breathed once again, re-assuming his role, and moved to sit down.

And he fell right on his ass.

Jim fell without the grace of a Captain, with his arms flailing and legs sliding out from under him. A yell erupted from his vocal cords without his consent while he felt the cold, hard bridge floor underneath him. 

He fucking fell in the middle of shift, after they all almost died, directly on his ass.

There was a beat of silence throughout the bridge. Jim could feel all their horrified gazes and could see Chekov’s mouth gaped open like a fish out of water.

And then Uhura laughed– no, wheezed– a guffaw of a laugh that came from deep within her belly. Sulu then followed suit with a loud chuckle, and then Chekov sniggered to his right. The entire bridge was cackling with delight, the sound filling up the entire room.

Jim sat on the floor, eyes closing. He listened to the sound– the beeps of machines, the running of the strong engine, and the laughter of his friends.

“Are you all right, Captain?” Spock knelt next to him and asked. He offered him a hand.

Jim took it, smiling, “I’m just fine.”


End file.
